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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24269251">i want to hold your hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryvermin/pseuds/veryvermin'>veryvermin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkwardness, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, set somewhere close to when they first start hanging out, this was really just an excuse for me to write cute shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:47:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24269251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryvermin/pseuds/veryvermin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Akechi seems a bit down during his and Akira's usual Jazz Club outing but refuses to elaborate on why. Akira thinks that maybe he just needs his hand to be held ( you know, for comfort ).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>161</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i want to hold your hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is the first fanfic i've written since like 2015 so please... go easy on me</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Jazz Club was comforting in a way not unlike Leblanc. The lights were dim and warm and there were never too many people, even on the nights the singer performed. Perhaps the laid-back atmosphere was why Akechi liked it as well; between T.V. appearances and most likely a boatload of schoolwork, this must be a nice change of pace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akira’s finger tapped against the wooden table as he peered over the rim of his glass at the boy across from him. Akechi was quieter, more reserved than he typically was when they met up at the club; not even trying to rope him into an argument about which Featherman was the best seemed to truly pique his interest. Earlier that morning, they had one of their rare run-ins at the train station where they chatted a bit. Even then, the teen detective looked exhausted and dazed despite his attempts to seem cheery. When Akira's phone pinged later that afternoon with an invite to hang out, it took him by surprise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there something on my face?” Akechi questioned with a tilt of his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akira startled a bit and blinked himself from his thoughts. He’d like to think of himself as a sneaky person, but Akechi always caught him staring or giving him funny looks. Hesitance overcame him as he went to speak; should he play it off as a joke? It’s what he’d normally do with the Phantom Thieves but, then again, they were always fairly open about how they were feeling. Shifting slightly in the booth he answered, “You look tired is all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tension suddenly shot through the air before it was dispersed with a wave of a hand. “I was up late finishing some schoolwork. Exams are near, after all,” Akechi mused with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. His dark gaze darts away toward the stage and his shoulders become slightly tensed and Akira can’t help but feel that he caught him in a lie. Not that he would call it out or anything, it wasn’t his business and he had no reason to accuse him of lying. The day prior, the Phantom Thieves had all gathered at Leblanc to sob over studying together — with the exception of Makoto, of course. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of light tapping on the table broke through the velvety voice serenading the patrons of the club, and his attention was abruptly brought back to Akechi. Gloved fingers thrummed against the surface in a way that was very unlike the teen. While one hand drummed away an inconsistent rhythm, another was idly playing with a button on his thick peacoat. It was always little tells that alerted him that there was something wrong; fingers brushing through unusually messy locks, tapping fingers and feet, the pleasant air he held being dropped for solemn disinterest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The surface of the table was cool under his fingers as he lowered his hand from where it had been gripping his glass. If Morgana were here, he’d be frantically whisper-yelling at him and asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he wasn’t here and Akira had no impulse control left in his spindly body. The palm of his hand inched forward until his fingers bumped fabric and he had to look away from his inevitable demise. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The singer tonight was wearing a tight blue dress that reminded him of the hue of the Velvet Room. His fingers were sliding further on their own volition, rubbing against the insides of Akechi’s. Wait, when had he stopped his distressed tapping? It felt like he was prodding a dead person’s hand and he had to grip the fabric of his pants leg to calm how shaky he had become. Sweat began to collect on the back of his neck as he realized what could come of his actions and the rest of his body had become rigid with fear. Truthfully, he didn’t know if Akechi was even seeing anyone, much less if he was attracted to men; yet, here Akira was, digging his own grave by trying to hold hands. It was a godsend that he hadn’t cut his hair in months since the curly black locks blocked his peripheral view, thus blocking him from seeing the guy that was surely about to strike him down for being so brave.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something grazed against the outside edge of his index finger. It was a touch so gentle and hesitant that it almost went unnoticed in Akira’s panic. His lungs forgot how to function alongside the rest of his body but surely, </span>
  <em>
    <span>surely</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had just imagined the ghost of a touch; surely Akechi was about to snap out of his shock and pull his hand away and gather his belongings while telling him how repulsive he was before— and there it was again! The obvious stroke of a thumb caressing the side of his index finger before their fingers slowly, cautiously began to intertwine. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> awkward and </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> exciting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The black-haired boy felt as if he was about to puke from nervousness and excitement. They were holding hands. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>holding</span>
  </em>
  <span> hands. They were holding </span>
  <em>
    <span>hands</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But he had to admit: there had been a lot less nausea and sweating in his classroom daydreams about this scenario. A deep breath drew itself into his lungs, relieving the burning that had begun to constrict his chest from holding his breath for so long and he wriggled in his seat. It was okay to look now, right? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> hand holding was okay with the both of him, so he had nothing to fear. Fuck — he was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Phantom Thief</span>
  </em>
  <span> that fought monsters more horrendous than any non-Metaverse user could come up with, why the hell was he so scared?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gaining a slight boost of confidence from his own pep talk, he quickly craned his neck to look at Akechi across the booth. He had shifted positions while he wasn’t watched; their fingers were still tangled together, but he looked about as nervous as Akira was. His free hand had come up to pinch his lower lip between his thumb and finger and through the soft brown waves of his hair, the skin across his nose and cheeks were beet red. He looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>bashful</span>
  </em>
  <span> and timid, so unlike the confident Prince Detective every teenage girl couldn’t stop gushing about. It was so weird that Akira couldn’t help but crack up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you laughing?” Akechi rushed out defensively, turning to look at him in an amalgamation of confusion and embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder what your fangirls would say if they saw you all blushy like this,” he couldn’t help but joke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” the detective remarked in horror as he pulled his hand away to hide his shame.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akira laughed lightly as he leaned across to grab his hand back, nearly knocking their forgotten drinks over in the process. The older boy let out a humorous huff as he allowed his face to be exposed once more, and he wanted to grab him by the face and kiss him like they were in a cheesy romance movie. But, as Akechi looked up at him through thick eyelashes, his beauty was like a knife to the gut and all of Akira’s nerve was promptly bled out of him. Their hands fumbled as they tried to settle on a hand-holding position and he wanted to cry at how awkward he was being right now. Ryuji always joked about him being a suave ladies’ man, but he couldn’t even figure out how to hold hands right.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had stayed long past their usual departure, drinking in each other’s company. Akechi’s quietness conveyed that he was still feeling off, but he had lightened up enough to hold a conversation for another few hours. It was nice to have someone to talk to that didn’t think the world of him, someone that challenged him to better himself. He couldn’t help the sadness that welled in his chest once Akechi had finally stood up to leave.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They walked to the train station and continued to chat, their hands loosely linked together. As the fluorescent lights of the station blinded the both of them, Akechi pulled his hand away to dig in his pockets in search of his IC card. Akira was reluctant to let go and reluctant to part ways as they approached their diverging paths. The taller teen turned to face him as they said their goodbyes, a smile gracing his soft features.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I had fun today, Akira,” he said, reaching out to squeeze the other’s hand once more, “Ah, what do you say to doing this again sometime? Perhaps even tomorrow night?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A grin split Akira’s normally stoic face as he nodded in agreement, “I wouldn’t turn you down for all of the exam studying in the world.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akechi’s smile abruptly changed into a look that Makoto often gave Ryuji when he threatened to not show up to their study sessions, a look that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t you even think about it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he replied, “Well, I guess I’ll see you then. Take care, Akira.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lingered for a moment as his gaze flickered over Akira’s face, as if he was thinking very intently about something. But, instead of doing something drastic like kissing him, he only waved an extra goodbye before spinning around and taking his leave. If Akira wasn’t such a coward, maybe he would have initiated their first kiss in the white light of the station… However, he’d need a lot more guts for that. In his pocket, his phone pinged and he quickly pulled it out to check what he had missed.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>10:45 P.M.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Futaba: </b>
  <span>morgana says he misses you</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Futaba: </b>
  <span>that was a lie, he said he likes me wayyy more than you &gt;:)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Futaba:</b>
  <span> where are you anyway?? you better not do anything stupid!!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Akira: </b>
  <span>sorry, already did the stupid thing</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Futaba: </b>
  <span>I KNEW IT!!!</span>
</p>
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